


how the same moon shines

by zangari



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Character Study, M/M, it's gay tm, thanks for coming to my ted talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-04-08 13:17:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14106231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zangari/pseuds/zangari
Summary: it's not the city. he could have left after it crumbled. they both could have left, but here they are. that doesn't make sense to some people, as much as he’s always tried to sound sincere. he's loved this city more than anyone could hate it.





	how the same moon shines

**01.** he was a child once too. he was a boy in the city with a mother who would take him to the beach. she’d do it to watch the sky go pink, for the time to teach him whatever she thought to, and for the toddler sleeping cocooned at her chest. fresh air. he had a mother whose face he remembers more than voice, and even then, memories of the beach have her turned in spiteful shadows and silhouettes.

he doesn't tell stories like this because someone should hear them, or because he should hear himself (which are two sides of the same coin, really). he doesn't tell these kinds of stories, full stop. so he’s beginning to wonder if he's deliberate in it now, as if there's a point to be proven. after all, there was a time when he was defined by nothing—only someone's kid in a city with the other million—and he can't help but forget the feeling. he can't help but lose the thread of an ordinary memory, talking like anything ever is or has been since. he says this too, wincing as he reaches for a fresh can behind their heads. ice water drips down an arm that almost feels it.

and he doesn't even want to talk! he doesn’t know what got him here! but once the floodgates open—

look. he'd rather talk about your day, or the rain coming tomorrow, or this beach now, as it is, the pink sky to the forgivingness of the dark. wouldn’t you?

‘there’s time for all that.’

it shuts him up for a new reason. he can't or doesn't want to place it now. but the silence is better, and it matches the sky, and it’s comforting-cold and slightly unsatisfying like the sand cracking as feet burrow. he looks up instead.

he's not a sad person. cross his heart. but, you know, it's always supposed to be this _city_. the root of all evil. it's always this shitty _city_ —which, out of his own mouth, has mako laughing. it has them both laughing.

it's not the city. he could have left after it crumbled. they both could have left, but here they are. that doesn't make sense to some people, as much as he’s always tried to sound sincere. he's loved this city more than anyone could hate it.

a pause. then, ‘here tama.’ half empty, the rest of his drink is offered. ‘cut me off.’

‘i'm accepting because that's the last one,’ says tama. ‘not because i don't trust you.’

‘well, i'm starting to lose faith. who are you again?’

it's quiet when he remembers it isn't. the shore demands attention, wave after crashing wave. he isn't here alone either, though it feels like he might be. in fact, there’s more snickering at a joke he barely made. in fact, he agreed on walking here, agreed on staying, and agreed because he wanted to. it's here that a smile fades before he could fully notice its presence. it has been noticed, though.

well, he's glad they could do this.

‘oh no.’

‘what?’

‘i know what that means.’ he tests the contents of his drink with a shake of the wrist. ‘we’ve only been here an hour, mako.’

‘it’s not like i wanna go. i have to feed the cat, call my brother, check on my neighbors’ fridge.’

‘what, to see if it's running? they'd better go catch it.’

‘no, really,’ stupid. stupider yet, he actually laughs. ‘something’s up with the circuits. they oughta have it looked at, but—’

‘what’s the rate for zapping a fridge these days?’

‘zero.’ as one hand grabs the cooler by its handle, the other is held out.

hesitation before it's taken, hesitation before letting go. but then again, it never happened. tama claps his hands together, palms rubbing. ‘i'll walk you home.’

‘it’s too far out of your way.’

‘a little fresh air never killed anybody!’

though he tries to avoid another pause, mako’s smirking. a shoulder shrugs.

‘i miss your cat anyway,’ tama adds, keeping up as mako pays attention to the pace. it isn’t subtle.

‘tell you what, then. you can feed him for me while i’m gone.’

‘oh, can i?’

‘just don't let it go to your head.’

 

 **02.** ‘i think he likes me better than you.’

shutting the door against his back, mako stops. his guest is sitting uncomfortably upright, the cat on his lap and pawing at his knees. so he walks past into the kitchen, nodding a nod that means nothing. then he says that’s great. he says the cat’s all yours then. and also, did you feed him? tama doesn’t answer. but, bits of food clattering into the dish, the cat has already jumped.

he didn’t mean to take so long, by the way. his neighbors asked if he would give their radio a look while he was there. he didn't have the heart to say no. who would? they're nice. a sweet old couple. there wasn’t anything actually wrong with the radio, though; the antenna got pushed out of place. he moved it back, then he checked the fridge which was still working from his last visit, then he offered them his cooler. you know, just in case it happens again when he’s not home.

‘are you going somewhere?’

‘i hope not.’

‘oh, okay.’ tama waves a hand. ‘carry on.’

so he’s taking the cooler and dropping it off, and he’s sorry again. sorry that this is boring. he didn’t think it would be a big thing and he appreciates you keeping the cat company. and he knows he cut it short and didn’t say much, but he really did enjoy the date! you know, the beers. the night out. he’s been too busy and hadn’t had one in a while. not _beer_ , he’s had that. anyway, he’ll be right back.

he’ll think of ways to fill up that hole he just dug for himself, then he’ll be back. tama will stifle something like dizziness with something like the blues. mako will have lit himself a cigarette between there and here, smiling crookedly behind it. like the aftermath of a joke he told or heard or remembered. somehow, that’s what braces him to ask.

he watches as tama sinks back into the sofa cushions, nodding as eyelids fall.

so breath held is a breath gone, in a puff. mako turns the record player down a notch—notices the record player is on, then turns it down. and he sits.

‘i just didn’t want to assume anything by...’

‘beautiful night, wasn’t it?’

he’s about to agree. it _is_. but he notices the look on his face, his thumb jutting over the bumping of shoulders. the rain clouds are closing in early.

 

 **03.** woken up by ringing, he swings an arm out and stops nothing. he doesn't want to realize it's really the phone; the phone is at the end of a walk he doesn't want to take. a third ring, though, and he’s checking the empty space beside him. he's pulling on a bathrobe, braving the cold floor at his feet.

‘hm?’

‘mako!’ shouts the phone.

‘shit,’ he mumbles, probably to the phone. ‘hi.’

‘oh,’ air sucked through teeth, a sound like static, ‘you were sleeping. wait, are you sick?’

‘no.’ moving to open the window, a deep breath taken. ‘sorry bo, i meant to call.’

‘if you're sick...’

‘i'm not sick, it's the weekend, i'm—’ not searching, watching blurry figures hailing cabs. ‘just sleeping in.’

‘so forget about it! you don’t always have to call first. i’m a big kid now.’

mako hums in agreement, chin resting over his fist. then, ‘how was your trip?’

he does listen to bolin’s story. it involves the great outdoors and campfires and rock collecting, taking pictures of walls—that is, old walls, broken ones that kept something somewhere, some centuries ago. he mentions opal, says she had fun the two times mako asks. (yeah, she’s good, i told you already! but how are you?) of course he’s fine, so they move on. remember when mom would take them to the beach? (not really. did she? which one? oh, me and opal went to a nice beach, remind me to show you the photos!) he’ll do that.

the front door swings open, stopped by a foot before it can hit drywall. a wince, not by the visitor. tama lifts the paper bags in his hands. mako shakes his head and points to the table.

‘can i call you back later, bo?’

‘no, i'll just come over! the game’s on tonight.’

mako’s watching hands fuss with a wobbly chair. ‘oh, right. okay. i'll see you then. bring those pictures. what did you do that for? i could have made you something.’

‘consider it a thank-you.’

‘well,’ he huffs, not sure why he's huffing, rubbing an eye, dropping the phone into place. ‘you're welcome. but i wasn't gonna let you get rained on. or walk all the way. how’s your—’

‘food’s getting cold here.’

‘i was wondering where you went.’

‘don't worry!’ as if necessary. ‘i remembered to feed the cat before i left.’

‘listen.’ mako drags a chair between them, then sits across. ‘for your leg,’ he says, spoon waving. he doesn't watch as the knee bends to rest, ankle twists, just another casual doomsday reminder.

then the opening of boxes and billowing steam, a piano played out of tune a floor down, laughter out of nowhere, or inevitable.

mako started it. ‘huh,’ napkin bunching in his hand, ‘i think i just noticed—something.’

‘pray tell.’

‘it’s too much.’

‘you're just noticing that?’

‘alright—’

‘just now?’

if he doesn't drive himself crazy, it will be everyone else, right? who he trusts but doesn't, or at least not how he’d like to. he's been warned before but doesn't keep track. (five years healed, seeing tama’s five year limp and this scar of a city, feeling a bad heartbeat and distance impending.) anyway, did he thank you for buying yet? it's good. and you’re walking better all the time. he noticed weeks ago, probably.

and anyway...

‘i know.’ fingertips to knuckles, and appreciation is a rhythm tapped. ‘just eat your damn breakfast.’


End file.
